See, I wrote this post. Some of you may have read it. It was about the chaos six children can achieve in an amazingly short amount of time. I showed it to my husband. He liked it. I showed it to my mom. She liked it. I showed it to my dad. He told my brother and sister-in-law about it. Figuring family knows best, I published it.

But all this conversation also piqued the curiosity of my 12 year old. Her comment?

“Mom, where was I?”

Where were you, indeed. Why, right there in the middle of it, my dear. At the same table Tiggy was on and Bear was under.

Well that did it. Now they all had to read it. Except most of them can’t read so I read it to them.

Big mistake.

Now “I Came to Dance . . .” has climbed the charts to number one, beating out “We Are Sparks for Jesus” and even “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star“. I’m treated to a chorus every day. Every hour, it seems.

And when my daughter, my twelve year old daughter, begins spinning her bowl of half melted ice cream for some reason beknownst only to her, you know what she has the nerve to tell me?

“It’s not a mess, mom. It’s million dollar art!”

Real sense of humor, that one has.

There are days I wonder just how I got here. With all the choices I could have made, with all the directions I could have gone, which one was it exactly that landed me here?

Take the other day, for example. I walk in the front room to find my 21 month old standing on the dining room table gleefully flinging oatmeal. It’s all over him. It’s all over the table. It’s on the ceiling. It’s on the walls. It’s on the homeschool folders. Somehow, there is more oatmeal stuck in places it does not belong than I ever would have put in his bowl.

To which my seven year old responds by falling off his chair in a fit of giggles as if . . . well . . . as if he had a front row seat to Gallagher himself.

From the couch comes the muffled noises of a five year old whose head has been swallowed by the couch, presumably in a failed attempt at a head stand.

And all the while my three year old dances about the room in nothing but the underwear on her head.

“Where is your mother?!”  I want to shout.

But that’s when it hits me. I know exactly how I got here. It’s all because I had to use the restroom.

And two minutes is all it takes.

With Easter, a wedding and summer heat coming, my son was in need of a bit of a haircut. My husband, stylist that he is, pulled out the clippers. Yes, he does hair just about as well as he does lawns.

See,a few minutes after he started clipping, the clippers died. The battery takes several hours to charge so he was stuck with the cut overnight. And the next day, a few minutes after he started clipping, the clippers died yet again. So we were sort of stuck. Sometime tomorrow, he shall don a hat to accompany me on a search for a nicer pair of clippers, thus serving as a reminder that in attempts at frugality, there are considerations beyond just the dollar signs.

The poor little guy failed to see any humor in it at first, and Saturday was a rough day full of teasing from siblings and my little Bear overreacting to the provocation. I asked if I could take a picture, just for him for later, and got quite a bearish growl in return.

So I decided to leave that. Even as a so-called “mommy blogger,” I have some respect for my children’ boundaries.

But then today, out of the blue, he said with a slight grin,

“Mom, I guess you can take a picture. But just to send it to grandma. I’d better not see it on your blog.”

“OK, sweetheart,” I answered, trying not to laugh.

And then, after I took the pictures, he said somewhat shyly,

“Oh, alright. You can put it on your blog, too. But you better only say nice things.”

Apparently, his sense of humor takes about two days of humility to begin to come out. That and the ability to be featured on my blog. That, dear readers, is the highlight of my children’s week: when they see a story about them published here to my blog. And with this, he knew he had a free ticket into the spotlight.

Who needs the opinion of a celebrity groundhog, when you can just kill your own?  Unadilla Bill, Nebraska’s very own official groundhog made his annual appearance yesterday and did not see his shadow.  While PETA may want old Phil retired and replaced with a robotic groundhog, Nebraska knows what to do with its varmints.

“He was caught in our local banker’s garden eating all the cabbages. When they finally caught him, they had him stuffed and he has lived ever since the early 1980’s in the village bar.”

And they named him Unadilla Bill, and bring him out every year to announce the coming of spring and lead the parade.  Who says country folk don’t know how to have a good time?

So which groundhog do you believe?  Phil or Bill?

Groundhog Day Unadilla Phil Punxsutawney Phil

Apparently, this is from an email going around.  All I can say is that of all the email forwards I get, why can’t I get cute ones like this?  (I edited it a bit from the version I came across.)

Homeschooling, Doggie Style

The kids start the day with mom supervising breakfast.

Take your seats!  (My favorite is the one under the chair.)

After all that concentration, they’re ready for some fun.  Where’s Waldo is always a favorite.

Then it is time to hang out with some friends.

Before you know it, they’re all tired out.

We’re not quite so organized around here, although that last picture is a bit reminiscent of a certain someone.

Keep those tails wagging!

I’m sure most of you who hadn’t already stumbled across these videos when I started posting them have gone ahead and watched all four by now, but I figure they’re worth a second viewing…or even a third.

Now the world is collapsing for these young homeschooled kids, who sort of seem like they could live next door.  Or, uh, maybe in my house as I watch ninja Gary jump around with his canned air. But he has a dream:

My hope is that one day females will learn to appreciate homeschoolers.  Sure, it may take them awhile, until they’re old and mature, to learn to appreciate the fact that we have read Lord of the Rings five times.  That we can spell big words like “arachnophobia.”  Or that we know that Homer wasn’t always a Simpson.

Discover the dream he clings to.

And then, just when you thought it was safe to email a girl in the basement of your home, well, what does a homeschooler do when they get out into the big, wide world?  I guess you need to get psyched up to leave the basement first.

You can do it Grant.  We’re all pulling for you.

And just as I thought it was safe to post, I noticed number five is already up.  Remember that Samantha was homeschooled, too?  Well, she has a father.  And as weird as homeschooled kids are, you know the parents have got to have issues.

If you would like to keep track of these homeschoolers taking their first tentative steps into the world outside their cloistered existence, you can keep an eye on PaperClip Films videos.

__________________________________________

And don’t forget to check out this week’s Carnival of Homeschooling.
As well as my giveaway for an Apologia Biology text book.

homeschool homeschooling humor socialization

When we last met Grant, he had been IMed by a girl.  Being homeschooled, neither he nor his companions knew quite how to deal with this surprise.  Thanks to virtual communication, there is always a second chance with a follow up email.

Samantha, thou art a handsome woman.

What can go wrong with a start like that?

homeschool homeschooler home school humor homeschooling

December 1, Venus, Jupiter and the crescent moon converged for a one time display of cosmic dissatisfaction as the evening sky appeared to be frowning down upon us. The light here is obscuring the frown a bit, but it was pretty clear while I was taking the picture.

Things looked a little different down under where the scene was inverted and Australia got an evening smiley face.  Europe got a more Picasso-esque effect as the moon was shoved between the “eyes.”

So why do you think the heavens would be frowning down upon us here in the United States?  Is News.com.au, an Australian news source, right when it says,

And perhaps it should tell Americans being frowned upon to have a long, hard look at themselves…?

Feel free to share your thoughts or your captions.  Did you get to see the event?  (And a bit more information for those more scientifically inclined.)

astronomy Jupiter Venus cosmic frown

School is well underway for most of us, and we are far enough into the year to begin feeling behind. Stressed, we begin looking over the fence at the Jones’, where the grass is always greener and the children never whine. Meeting with other homeschoolers brings a mixture of encouragement and feelings of inadequacy as we begin to second guess those plans which looked so good on paper. If this describes you, you are off to a great start! After all, there is nothing mankind desires more or works harder for than misery. A brief survey of world literature reveals our fascination with sin, danger and tragedy. If we cannot experience it personally, we do so vicariously through what have become the classics. Even the quest for happiness robs our happiness in the end as Paul Watzlawick so aptly noted in his book, Anleitung zum Unglücklichsein (Guide to Unhappiness). To help you along the way to maximizing your unhappiness, I have written the following guide. Some of these steps may come naturally to you; others may require practice. With diligence, however, anyone can achieve the unhappiness they so earnestly desire.

1. Copy the public schools.

Buy desks, set them up in neat rows facing the front of the room and invest in a pointer. Even if you have only one child, make him raise his hand to answer questions. Schedule restroom breaks. Let the clock dictate your every move. Giving a toddler a megaphone is a good stand in for a disruptive PA system.

2. Choose your curriculum based on what everyone in your homeschool group is using.

Better yet, find a stranger online and ask her. Don’t consider your temperament or your child’s interests. After all, these other people have way more experience than you. Remind yourself of that continually when things are not going well.

3. Contact every curriculum publisher.

Make sure they have your correct address and get on as many mailing lists as possible. When you first get those glossy catalogs, you will think that this is having the opposite effect than what is intended here. The texture, the smell and all the neat stuff! But then you realize just how much stuff is out there. And how much stuff you do not have. There is always one more book and one more manipulative set to squeeze out of any budget. After all, you only have one chance to educate your children properly. Never let yourself become content with what you already have.

4. Make a clear distinction between school and life.

Do not consider the educational value of trips to the zoo, visits with grandparents and vacations. The more narrowly you define education, the more likely you are to avoid spontaneous “experiences” in favor of “the book.” This also helps maximize the stress of wondering if you are doing enough.

5. Take everything personally.

Everyone has a bad day now and again. Even children. Use this to its fullest potential by taking these opportunities to question your parenting. When your child says, “This is boring,” consider it a direct reflection on your character and personality. Think what it will be like when they talk to their bosses that way. Wonder what your homeschooling friends would say. Most importantly, try to isolate where you have gone wrong as a parent and fret over the permanent damage you must have caused.

This is intended only as a cursory introduction to maintaining general unhappiness in your homeschool. There are many other proven techniques for making yourself miserable and they all progress rather naturally to making those around you unhappy as well. For those of you who are more seasoned, or have just caught on quickly to the art of creating unhappiness, please feel free to add your own suggestions. I will add links to anyone who shares a proven technique for increasing the level of unhappiness in our homes. Even if it is not specific to homeschooling.

Misery loves company.

________________________________

The Thinking Mother adds her thoughts.

Kristie shares a little more about the importance of your schedule to maintaining unhappiness.

homeschool homeschooling parenting humor

So, yeah. Today was not such a good day. But to understand, perhaps we need to go back a few days. To the end of last week. When I joyfully announced we were ahead of my plans for history. And I asked mouse what she would like to learn between now and the 20th century, which I haven’t had time to plan.

Her answer? Why, 19th century whaling, of course!

“19th century whaling?” I thought? “What do I know about 19th century whaling? Come to think of it, what on earth would I want to know about 19th century whaling? Stalling, I suggested a week on whales. Because I was confident my internet connection and I could pull together a pretty good unit on whaling over the course of a weekend. As opposed to 19th century whaling. So I have another week to work on that…

I spent all weekend assessing websites, finding information, slide shows, videos and even a website in Hawaii transmitting the song of the humpback whale…live. I created a template for two mini-books to staple in our first lapbook and made modifications so that both the five year old and the two year old could participate.

It was a good unit.

I didn’t plan for it to fall apart 15 minutes after breakfast. I still don’t know quite what happened. I told her I’d finish dishes so she could start on her AWANAs verses. And this is what I heard:

• Husband’s voice, indistinct.
• Daughter, very distinct: “I can’t find my book!”
• Husband’s voice, indistinct.
• Daughter, shouting: “But mommy told me to start with my verses!”
• Husband’s voice, indistinct.
• A scream.
• A crash.
• The sound of someone flinging herself on the bed.

My husband came in to inform me she wasn’t to use her colored pencils for the day. Incredulous, I just stared at him.

She threw them across the room.

But I had planned for her to sketch a sperm whale for her book. I had planned for enthusiastic children seated about me as we went on this multimedia journey of the deep. I had planned.

Whew–even writing about it is causing my blood pressure to rise. Yours probably is, too. This will make you feel better:

Babies dressed as ladybugs always do.

Now, obviously, my husband did not understand the emotional investment I had in those colored pencils. So I snapped. Then I sulked. And I sat down to sketch out my article for Heart of the Matter as I listened to the mournful wails eminating from my daughter’s room. That wail…ooh, did it get to me. Fifteen minutes of sobbing because her father told her not to worry about AWANAs and get started with spelling. Didn’t she realize the senselessness? Didn’t she…see, digging this up is not healthy for me. Deep breath. And the thought of a better day:

That is her at a pull off on the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. Just enjoying the mountain air and freedom of exploration.

So she settles herself. Accepts her consequence. Does a nice job with the copy work. She brings me her spelling and…what’s this? A smile? Maybe the day can be salvaged, after all. As she hands me her book, I ask if she has looked over the words.

Don’t need to. They’re easy.

We’ve been through this before, but I generally get no more than this:

after she fails a pre-test. No such luck. When handed her book to go do a word sort, she retreated to her room to wrap herself in a curtain and stare out the window.

I commenced self-soothing exercises.

One.

Two.

Three.

This really is my issue. After all, watching the birds to calm yourself is wholly acceptable and something we have worked on for awhile. I watch the minutes tick by, see the time slipping away like water and my lesson plans being cast away for the day. My lesson plans I had planned…

Have I shared any pictures of my son recently?

He tells me every night he loves me and that I’m the bestest mom ever. I know he just lacks a proper sample to measure against, but no one better tell him that.

Suddenly, my daughter reappears, eyes swollen and spelling done. I’m inclined to let the day be over, but I’m always worried that might reward her for the tantrum. So I press on.

Sweetheart, I want you to take ten minutes to read or sketch or do something to refocus, ok?

Can I make a wand with a straw and my heart Grandma gave me?

Sure.

All smiles, she bounds off.

Lunch.

Dishes.

And…dare I even try it? Throw my whale lesson at the mercy of this tempest? Was I seeing the sun break through dissipating clouds or just the tenuous calm in the eye of the storm? Would the high interest subject matter break through to her normally sunshiny disposition, or would the frustration of the day soil the best laid plans? My plans…

I sallied forth.

And then came the glorious rainbow.

Mom, did you know that the sperm whale has the biggest brain of any animal to have ever lived?

She was absorbed in her project and my heart sang. Who cares that school didn’t end until 7Pm?

Seven? (Grumble.) I guess I do. Maybe this will help.

Because that really is more representative of our homeschooling days.

Activity: This is something we normally do when the children are arguing, but didn’t today. Have everyone sit in a circle and say something they like about each of their siblings and mom and dad. My children really seem to like to hear this little bit of praise from their siblings and it helps them stop the fighting.

And this reminds me of an interesting song (not for all audiences, but it is all in German, so you likely won’t notice).  The translation of the chorus, however, goes thus:

Good morning my dear troubles,
Are you all back so soon?
Have you also slept so well?
Well, then every thing’s all right.

Are you sharing some of the challenges of home education? Leave the link to your post here, and be sure to link to this post to share all the wonderful experiences others have chosen to share with your readers as well. I am looking forward to getting to know you all a little better this week!

homeschooling, parenting, education